Suddenly, everything is green. The woods are dense and dark. Sunshine returned today, and everyone's spirits lifted. Life is too busy already, though, with so many things going on every day and evening that the luxury of lazy porch reading seems like an impossible dream. Nonetheless, I did take THESE IS MY WORDS: THE DIARY OF SARAH AGNES PRINE, 1881-1901, ARIZONA TERRITORIES, by Nancy E. Turner, to bed with me last night and read until I fell asleep. Have decided that is my fiction pick for this month of June. Nonfiction pick is GRASS ROOTS: THE UNIVERSE OF HOME, by Paul Gruchow. Not that I'll probably have it together to choose a single fiction and single nonfiction book for each month of the year. That would be just way too scheduled.
The friends who led me to cheesecake in Traverse City last week found their way to Northport yesterday, and we shared a #2 pizza at the Eat Spot. Artichokes and gorgonzola are a brilliant combination.
It figures that when I picked up an illustrated book on Abraham Lincoln, it would open to a two-page image of “Some of the Books He Left Behind." Why does this picture tug at the heart so?
The friends who led me to cheesecake in Traverse City last week found their way to Northport yesterday, and we shared a #2 pizza at the Eat Spot. Artichokes and gorgonzola are a brilliant combination. 
2 comments:
"Why does this picture tug at the heart so?" It does, too. I think it's that a truly great man touched those bindings, opened those books, read from them. More, a truly fine mind explored those pages for . . . something. Comfort. Hope. An idea, a piece of information, a perspective - a joke. Something to get him through that day's challenges, that night's perplexities. To see that picture is to remember the books in the stacks when I was studying history. I can almost feel them. To read from those books is to touch that particular, remarkable, mind.
Or, possibly, I'm suffering from the onslaught of summer madness. One.
Thanks, Gerry, for confirming my feeling so eloquently.
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